


sweetness and light

by badacts



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Animal Abuse, Gen, and a puppy, the dog doesn't die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:07:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,461
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24715051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badacts/pseuds/badacts
Summary: “Hood,” Damian says sharply. “Do not touch it. Even gentle dogs might bite when in significant pain.” It’s one of the things he’d had drilled into him when he did the animal first aid course they offered at the shelter he volunteers at sometimes. Animals, even domesticated animals, even the sweetest and most beloved, can turn unpredictable when hurt.“Huh,” Hood huffs a little, though his voice is still sing-song and his focus is still firmly on the pup. “Maybe that’s a thing we got in common, hey, sweetness.”
Relationships: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 29
Kudos: 469





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted from tumblr :)

At this point, the reality of depravity amongst the bowels of humanity should not surprise Damian. And yet.

The dog is young, still basically a pup. The only giveaway that it’s even alive, at first, is the faint movement of it breathing.

“Ah fuck,” Red Hood says, and at the sound of his voice the little bundle of fur and blood twitches and whimpers.

Damian glances around more carefully this time. He says, disgusted, “A fighting ring.” His voice comes out less steady than he’d like.

Meanwhile, Hood is inching closer to the dog, hand outstretched while he murmurs something under his breath.

“Hood,” Damian says sharply. “Do not touch it. Even gentle dogs might bite when in significant pain.” It’s one of the things he’d had drilled into him when he did the animal first aid course they offered at the shelter he volunteers at sometimes. Animals, even domesticated animals, even the sweetest and most beloved, can turn unpredictable when hurt.

“Huh,” Hood huffs a little, though his voice is still sing-song and his focus is still firmly on the pup. “Maybe that’s a thing we got in common, hey, sweetness.”

“Jason,” Damian says, forgetting himself as he watches the dog’s wedge-shaped head lift towards Hood’s fingers. His heart skips a beat, waiting for the snap and Hood’s cry of pain, and then a flinch, or a slap, or -

The puppy licks at his fingers before dropping its head again. Its tail gives a feeble little wag. Hood says, “Easy, little dog,” as he slips off his jacket and bundles it around the pup. There’s a faint whine but no significant protest, and Hood’s hands look gentle as he picks it up.

“Come here,” Hood commands, and Damian goes without thinking. It’s strange, sometimes, how he also sounds like Father. “Arms out.”

Damian obeys. It’s only when he does that he notices his hands are shaking visibly. 

He’s sure that Hood can tell, but he doesn’t pause in depositing the puppy, jacket and all, into Damian’s arms. “It’ll be easier to get out of here if you carry it. Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.”

“I do not require your protection,” Damian snaps, and then a little grey muzzle appears from the bundle where he’s holding it under his chin. He doesn’t flinch at the feel of a tongue on his neck above his collar.

“Fearsome beast,” Hood comments, sounding amused. Damian would be offended, but he doesn’t think it’s at him. “Come on, squirt. Let’s get out of here.”

* * *

They take the pup to the nearest afterhours vet clinic. It’s clean but outdated, nothing like the glittering sterile white of the clinic Damian Wayne takes his animals too. But here it’s Red Hood and Robin instead.

Hood seems completely comfortable under the harsh fluorescents where Damian feels exposed. He speaks to the puppy with the same slight sing-song tone that sometimes women at parties use on Damian. It’s better used on the dog, of course. The clinic staff also seem to welcome Hood in, almost like they know him.

“I brought a litter of kittens here once,” Hood explains when he feels Damian’s gaze on him. “Teeny little things. Their ma got hit by a car.”

“Grew up good and strong and got great homes,” the vet nurse examining the puppy says in Spanish. “No temperature, and I can’t feel any obvious fractures, but some of these wounds are pretty nasty. Bite wounds are full of bacteria so we’re going to have to get her on some good antibiotics.”

“She’s a female?” Damian asks in the same language. The table the puppy is on is irritatingly high, so he can’t see well.

“Yeah baby,” the woman replies, as though he’s a toddler and not Robin. There’s no condescension in her tone though. “I’ll get the vet in here and we’ll sort her out and make her comfortable for tonight.”

The two of them are ushered out into the deserted waiting room while the vet sedates her and treats her wounds. Hood sits in one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs and plays what looks like Candy Crush on his phone. Damian browses the shelves of products with unseeing eyes, the bubble of discomfort in his belly that comes from knowing he’s abandoned the rest of his patrol. It’s not guilt, precisely. He’s not sure what it is.

“Dad says he’ll pick you up from my place later,” Hood says without looking up from his phone. And Damian  _ knows _ it’s to avoid saying ‘B’ or ‘Batman’ but it still sounds...pleasant. Something.

“That’s acceptable,” Damian replies from the flea treatment section.

Eventually the vet, a tired-looking man in his fifties, emerges from the examination room. He’s smiling. “We’ve got her all treated and settled for the night with some pain relief. We’ll probably keep her here for a few days at least to ensure she’s on the right track to recovery before she heads out to be fostered.”

“You do adoptions here?” Damian asks. The vet jumps a little like he didn’t realise Damian was there. 

“Uh, yes, we get donations towards a treatment-to-adoption program from a corporate sponsor.”

“Oh,” Damian says. It’s nice, and Damian knows who the corporate sponsor is, considering the program was his brainchild with Father’s support, but he’s still partially considering what Father would say if he turned up with a second dog. It was that little tail wag - all that pain, and here was another man in Jason who she could likely only differentiate from the people who’d hurt her by the tone of his voice, and she’d wagged her tail.

“Let me know how she does,” Hood says. “I might know someone who would adopt her. Maria has my number.”

The vet smiles like he was expecting that. An interesting development. “Of course.”

“Alright, kiddo. Let’s hit the road.” Hood stands, shoving his phone into one of his many pockets. 

“May I say goodbye first?” Damian asks, surprising himself. He’s not sure whether it’s the vet or Jason he’s asking for permission. Hood turns to the vet, head tilted in deference.

“She’s pretty tired still so you’ll have to be quiet,” the vet warns, and then chuffs a laugh. “I guess you can probably manage that.”

“I’ve handled recovering animals before,” Damian replies, perhaps a touch defensively. Just because he looks young doesn’t mean he’s stupid.

“Come through. We’ll keep it brief,” the vet says, unoffended. He takes them back to the kennels, pointing to the lowest one in a dim corner. “There she is.” 

Damian goes to her, kneeling and unlatching the crate front. The pup is curled in blankets, still recovering from her sedation.

"مرحبا"  Damian murmurs, rubbing her ears. She yawns, squeaking a little. Her dozy head rises as she attempts to peer at him through mostly closed eyes, but only briefly before bobbling back down. Her fur, now mostly clean, is very soft.

The vet and Hood are speaking quietly from the doorway. Damian stands, latching the cage closed again. He says, “We should leave her to rest.”

When they’re outside, back on the street and heading for the nearest and best roofs to take them back to whichever of Hood’s safehouses they’re headed to, Damian is surprised by a not-quite-rough hand tousling his hair. “You did good, kid.”

“I know how to care for injured animals.” Damian snaps the reminder, slapping at his arm.

“It’s different dealing with an injury in the field though,” Hood replies with a shrug. He didn’t recover his jacket from the vet clinic, Damian realises. It must have been too stained to bother with. That said, the man must go through a steady supply of them, considering the quality of his gear compared to the uniforms of the rest of the family.

“You were adequate,” Damian tells him stiffly. He took an unnecessary risk, but that is something of a lifestyle for Red Hood. Just like taking strays to the veterinary clinic seems to be.

Hood laughs, low but genuine. “Thanks, babybat.”


	2. Chapter 2

Tim is alone in the Cave when the quiet alert of an approaching vehicle sounds, closely followed by the screen flashing Jason’s ID as approval. It’s a lesser part of his brain that notices - the rest of him is firmly focussed on poring over the details of his newest case.

He’s pulled back a bit more to reality by the slamming of a car door, and Jason’s voice saying, “Hey.”

“Hey,” Tim mumbles around the pen in his mouth. “What’s - what is  _ that _ ?”

“What’s what?” Jason sounds mystified. It’s outrageous.

“ _ That _ .” Tim points at the car Jason has parked between the Batmobile and Tim’s own Redbird. “Is that a  _ Hyundai _ ?”

Jason turns to look at the car. He appears to squint as though he’s trying to determine the make himself. “Uh, yeah.”

“Jesus,” Tim says. He’s genuinely staggered. “You own a Hyundai Sonata?”

“It’s actually Arsenal’s.”

“ _ Roy Harper _ owns a Sonata?”

Jason shrugs. “He has a kid. It’s meant to be safe.”

“Why is it...here?” Jason has bikes - easier to park in central Gotham, faster and more maneuverable, and generally provide a ready-made excuse for not transporting anyone else. Tim looks him up and down, searching him for injuries.

Jason catches it and rolls his eyes. “Transport job. Can you get the brat down here?”

Tim winces. “Sure.” He turns back to the computer, picking up his phone from beside the keyboard. He’s missed a few messages, actually, but he ignores that in favour of sending Damian a text that just says,  _ Come down, J wants you. _

He’s expecting the phone to ring so Damian can berate him directly, or at least a sharp text reply. Instead, five minutes later, there’s the sound of thundering feet coming closer.

There are few mannerisms that give Damian away as younger than he would like people to consider him. The funniest of them has to be that he clearly hasn’t gathered the precise point at which his footsteps become audible on the stairs above the Cave. That means that Tim has to carefully wipe the amusement off his face when Damian appears into view at a controlled walk, no sign he’d been bolting in their direction a few seconds ago.

“Hood,” he says to Jason, surveying his older brother with sharp uncertain eyes. “What is the meaning of this?” It’s then that Tim considers perhaps he’s worried about bad news of some kind.

“Got a surprise for you kiddo,” Jason says, gesturing to the car. “Backseat.”

Damian gives him a wary glare, but proceeds over to the car anyway. When he peers in through the window, he doesn’t quite manage to stifle the high noise he makes.

Tim jumps to his feet before he recognises the sound as excitement. By then, Damian has thrown the door open and released a stout grey shape out into the Cave. A shape with four legs and a wagging tail and a tongue which is determinedly bathing Damian’s face.

“That’s a dog,” Tim says.

“Yeah, Timbit,” Jason replies approvingly. “No wonder they call you mini-Detective.”

Tim punches him in the shoulder. “No one calls me that. Where’d you get a dog?”

“Kid and I found it at a scene about a month ago. It’d been attacked, or used as bait, needed some vet care and I fostered her for a few weeks. Now she’s been given the all clear so I picked her up for him.”

“You’re giving Damian a dog? He has a dog, why don’t you keep it?”

“What would I do with a dog?” Jason asks, faux confused. He’s smiling, which ruins the effect.

Damian is rolling across the floor with the dog now, like a puppy himself. It’s a touch less alarming than it is when he does the same with Titus, who could break a rib if he got too rough. 

There’s a throat cleared from the stairs, and then Bruce says, “Who’s that?”

“It’s a dog, old man. You forget your glasses or something?” Jason whips back. He still looks relaxed.

“I said ‘who’, not ‘what’,” Bruce says, coming further inside. Damian has gone still, the dog in his lap panting happily and nosing at his hand. “You got a dog, Jay?”

“What would I do with a dog?” Jason repeats, but this time he sounds genuinely puzzled. When he needs to be, he’s an exceptional liar. “She’s the kid’s.”

“Oh, of course,” Bruce accepts, nodding along. “May I say hello?”

“She’s friendly,” Damian says, sounding prickly. Defensive. As though it wasn’t blatantly obvious by the grin the dog is wearing, and the continual wag of her tail.

Bruce crouches down next to Damian, offering his knuckles to the dog to sniff. They’re immediately bathed by her enormous pink tongue. Tim winces - ew - but Bruce seems unbothered. There’s a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth.

“What’s her name?” he asks.

Damian’s fingers resume fondling her ears. He says, quietly, “Helena.”

Jason groans. “Kid, that’s the  _ worst _ .”

“It means ‘light’,” Damian counters, his straight face folding into a frown as he stares up at Jason.

“‘I am your spaniel, and, Demetrius, the more you beat me, I will fawn on you’,” Jason says, hand held to his forehead like a swooning maiden. Damian’s frown turns to a scowl.

“Todd,” he says, in that particular way he does when he’s about to unleash verbal hell.

“The same rules apply to her as to Titus,” Bruce says, stopping that before it can start.

“Yes Father,” Damian replies immediately, getting off of the concrete. The dog - Helena - sticks to his heels like glue. “May I take her up to the Manor? I should introduce her to the other animals.”

“Save the cow for tomorrow,” Bruce says. “Alfred will want you washed up before too long.”

Damian nods. “Todd, will you come with me?”

Jason blinks. “Uh…”

“You should join us for dinner, Jay,” Bruce offers, levering himself out of his crouch. His knees pop a bit.

Jason’s eyes flick between the child and the father, and then he says, “Alright.”

“You too, Tim,” Bruce says, fixing his gaze on Tim.

“Uh, I was going to-” Tim starts, gesturing vaguely at the computer behind him.

“You’re coming Timothy,” Jason hisses at him from the side of his mouth.

“...sure, sounds great,” Tim finishes, valiantly he thinks. Now he’s going to have to speed up substantially to finish the work he needs to do before he goes out tonight. He’s contemplating that as Damian harries Jason up the stairs, Helena doing her best to trip one or both of them up.

Tim is left with Bruce, who is contemplating the Hyundai, hands on his hips. Vaguely disgusted, he asks, “What the hell is that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have anything against Hyundais, I swear.
> 
> Come find me on [tumblr](https://badacts.tumblr.com/) :)


End file.
